


Only in Dreams

by Jazzi_Hands



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, God!Jesse McCree, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Medium Burn, Rating May Change, Young Jesse McCree/Young Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2019-11-01 15:55:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17870228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazzi_Hands/pseuds/Jazzi_Hands
Summary: Hanzo has had a rough life. So many expectations with being the heir. The clan controls what he wears, how he acts, what he eats; how, when, and what he trains. They control who he interacts with and even restrict him from his dear little brother, who is the only person who actually sees him as a person, not an object. The only thing the clan doesn’t control is Hanzo’s dreams, and it is only in sleep that Hanzo have freedom.Enter Jesse, who is a god of the Night and Dreams. A lonely outcast, he sifts through peoples dreams, but none caught his attention until he ran across Hanzo, who dreams of freedom and so vividly, and Jesse senses a kindred spirit.





	1. Encounter

“ **Crack-!** ”

 

Hanzo feels the sharp sting of the bamboo rod meeting the back of his thigh, and tears immediately spring to his eyes. He won’t let them fall, though. No, there is no room for such weakness from the future oyabun of the mighty Shimada Clan. 

 

He stumbles back, sweat coursing down his brow with each sharp rise and fall of his chest, getting in his eyes and blurring his vision. He takes a deep, steadying breath to reign in his emotions before leveling a perfectly neutral stare at the instructor.

 

Kasabuta-sensei glares down his nose at the child, a spiteful smirk pulling at the edges of his mouth, daring Hanzo to speak out against him. “Again!”, he barks, “Correctly, this time, if you would, Young Master.”

 

Hanzo shuffles back to standing, takes in another deep breath, and exhales into the correct “ _ Sha No Kamae” _ stance. This time, paying more mind to the correct rotation of his left foot - which had previously been turned  _ slightly _ too far in - that had resulted in the whack to his leg. 

 

\- - 

 

At 12 years old, Hanzo was highly regarded as a prodigy: The Pride of the Shimada Clan: A Prince in his own right! Acclamation of his prowess in kendo, martial arts, and archery were rivaled only by praise of his sharp intelligence and impeccable manners. 

 

Foreign dignitaries all delighted in his thoughtful stoicism when they met with the leaders of the clan, whether these meetings be to form alliances or reaffirm trade deals. To have a child so young in these meetings was unheard of, let alone one who seemed to have such a strong understanding of leadership and the runnings of a business. He sat at the head of the table beside his father, the current Kumicho of the Clan. Back straight, hands folded perfectly in his lap and listening with rapt attention, Hanzo was the image of the perfect future leader. 

\- -

 

With kendo practice finally over for the day, Hanzo was absolutely exhausted. Drenched in sweat and body sore from both exertion and the many bruises marring his skin, he can’t wait for the day to be over. He bows stiffly to Kasabuta-sensei - showing no outward sign of discomfort - and heads to the main branch of the castle for the rest of his daily studies.

  
  


“The history of your ancestors is rich in lessons to be remembered, Young Master”, lectures Shinoya-sensei, “You will need these lessons for when you become kumicho of the Shimada clan.”

 

“Your hand must be held steady, Shimada-sama, lest the strokes become uneven. As the heir, you must exude elegance.”, says Chiyo-sensei, firmly, with a sharp rap of a brush to his knuckles.  

  
  


“Position your knees to be directly over your feet and lean into the stance, Young Master. It will give you a sturdier center of gravity and make you less likely to lose balance during an attack.”, instructs Tataki-sensei, with a nudge of his foot to Hanzo’s shin. 

 

“Straighten your spine or your arrow will not fly true, Shimada-sama!”, scolds Yamamato-sensei, with a sharp smack to his elbow. 

 

“Treat Asumi-chan gently, Young Master, she comes from an ally clan”

 

“clear your mind, Young Master”

 

“Be mindful of what you eat, Young Master”

 

“wear this, Shimada-sama”

 

“Go-”

 

“Do-“

 

“Say-“

 

“Think-“

 

“Young Master-”

 

“Young Master-”

 

“Shimada-sama-”

 

“YOUNG MASTER-“

 

\- - 

 

Once safely inside his chambers and blessedly,  _ finally _ alone. He can now let slip the façade of ‘The Perfect Heir’, and become ‘Just Hanzo’: a young boy of 12 years, who has feelings and preferences and hopes and dreams, and all the things he was not allowed to have and be as the heir. 

 

He slumps to the floor the second the door is closed, giving in to the many aches and pains in his body, feeling the exhaustion of yet another day of seemingly endless lessons and reprimands at the smallest mistakes. Finally free of the endless instructors, Hanzo curls up with his head on his knees and cries. 

 

A tentative knock sounds from the door to his chambers and Hanzo scoots to the side to admit Genji - the only person who actually knocked, instead of barging in. Genji immediately climbs in his big brother’s lap and curls into him, wrapping him up in his slender arms. He doesn’t quite understand why Hanzo cries like this sometimes, just that it makes him sad to see his big brother sad. 

 

Hanzo clings to Genji, tears soaking through his shirt in the process, sobbing into the folds of the fabric. Genji holds on and strokes his brother’s hair until the sobs let up and are replaced by deep gulps of air, and then settle to more regulated breaths. Hanzo gently pulls away once he’s more calm. Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, he gives Genji a soft, watery smile.

 

“Are you alright, Anija?", he asks, "It makes me sad to see you sad.”

 

Hanzo lets out a quiet, fond chuckle and hugs his precious little brother, then pulls back to ruffle his already unruly hair. “Yes, Genji. I am fine, now. Thank you.”

 

Genji giggles and playfully swats Hanzo’s hands away. “good’, he says, with a devious glint in his eye, “you’re more fun when you aren’t crying.”

 

Hanzo gives an affectionate swipe to Genji’s temple and they both dissolve into playful wrestling, neither one actually trying to win, just tussling around and giggling, trying to stay quiet, so as not to get caught. 

 

All too soon, footsteps are heard coming around the corner and Hanzo hugs his little brother one more time before quickly ushering him out the door. It would not do to have him get in trouble for venturing to Hanzo’s room past his bedtime. 

 

Watching him slip noiselessly into his own room across the hall - impressive for a 9 year old - Hanzo sighs to himself and closes his door again, immediately feeling the loss of his radiant brother. 

 

He drags himself to the shower, soothing the soreness that has settled in his body, and then crawls into his bed, burrowing into the blankets and pillows. He lets out a relieved breath. Bedtime is his favorite part of the day. The blanket is warm, the pillows are soft, and the futon holds his body just right to ease his aches. 

 

But more than all that, Hanzo can  _ dream _ . 

 

And dream, he does. _ Vividly. _

 

He dreams of romping through rolling fields filled with daisies, coreopsis, dandelions, and poppies, smelling their sweet fragrances carried on the breeze, rolling in the flora and delighting in the small creatures that make their homes amongst the flowers.

 

He dreams of running through a dense forest amongst a pack of wolves, leaping nimbly over brush and fallen branches, exuberant in the thrill of the wild, feeling nothing but the wind caress his skin and card through his hair.

 

He dreams of a thick bamboo forest with a waterfall hidden in the middle of it. Isolated from the rest of the world, small animals notwithstanding. A secret that only Hanzo knew about. The bamboo is thick and sways in the wind, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves.

 

It is the bamboo forest waterfall Hanzo chooses to visit tonight, it’s his favorite. The rush of the waterfall and the sun-warmed rocks that surround the pool make a perfect spot for sitting and just  _ existing _ . No responsibilities, no expectations, no “Young Master”. Just Hanzo and the surrounding nature. He gazes over the bubbling water, sunlight catching and reflecting like thousands of sparkling diamonds, squinting to shield his eyes from the brilliance. He breathes in deeply, taking in the crisp scents of the water and the earthier tones of the forest. The sun is pleasant, warming his face as he tilts his head back, the breeze kissing his skin. Along with the rustling of the leaves in the wind, soft scuffles can be heard from small critters moving about. Hanzo exhales slowly, closing his eyes and relaxing further into his spot against a rock.

 

Soon, however, he cracks an eye open. The rustling in a nearby cluster of trees has gotten louder. A small animal should not be able to make that much noise. 

 

Huffing slightly and getting up, Hanzo goes to investigate. Unafraid of danger - it’s a dream, he can’t be hurt - he reaches the cluster of trees and reaches out to pull them apart.

 

A figure darts out past him, dashing behind one of the larger rocks by the pool. Well… that definitely doesn’t look like any of the creatures he’s seen here before. It didn’t even look like an animal, it was humanoid in shape. 

 

Odd. Hanzo has never dreamt about another person before. He makes a point to keep people  _ out _ of his dreams, he has enough of them while he’s awake. 

 

Stepping quietly, curiosity piqued, he slowly makes his way over to the rock the… whatever it was… had hidden behind, holding his hands out in a placating gesture, speaking gently. “I mean you no harm, I promise. I’ve never seen anyone else here before”.

 

No reply.

 

He rounds the corner and sees a small group of bushes behind the rock. The creature must be hiding behind it. 

 

Parting the bushes, Hanzo tries again, “will you come out? I promise I will not hurt you.”

 

He moves a branch aside and is met by a pair of luminescent golden-brown eyes.

 

_ Oh _ …

 

“Hello?”


	2. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for 1. The names and 2. The mythology that was ripped up and then badly taped together to make this story up 
> 
> So yeah, it’s been.... a while... sorry, folks. Please accept this offering of another chapter ^_^’
> 
> Thank you for the beta, @spiciest_author!!! <3

A man sits upon a lavish pile of cushions, beautiful women surrounding him, all scantily clad as they drape over him, stroking his chest, trailing kisses over his shoulders, one of them licking into his mouth as another trails dainty fingers down his abdomen towards his-

 

Ugh.  _ Skip! _

 

A raven-haired woman admires her reflection in a full-length mirror. She traces the perfect planes and delicate lines of her face, watches the light dance and play on her lovely features, completely enamored by her own beauty.

 

A sigh.  _ Next _ .

 

A man sits alone in a room, cackling as he counts stacks upon stacks upon stacks of bills. He throws one of the stacks up and laughs as the bills scatter and float down around him. Money. Money brings happiness. Money is all he’s ever wanted in his li-

 

Typical. 

 

A woman sits upon a throne, ankles crossed as she tosses around orders, reveling in the power she wields over-

 

Boring.

 

Breaths mingle as their lips meet in a heated kiss, his best friend’s wife is only something he can indulge in his dreams, and indulge he does. He-

 

Nope.

 

She stands up on a pedestal as the crowds chant her name-

 

He dances through a group of sweaty writhing bodies-

 

She revels in the attention-

 

He lords over his conquests-

 

Fame-

 

Glory-

 

Lust- 

 

Jessiztecatl groans as he wakes from his trance and drags himself out of his bed. Well… “bed” is a bit of an overstatement, it’s more of a pile of pelts draped on top of a pallet made of leaves and twigs, but it’s what he has.    
  
Another dull night sifting through the dreams of the humans and finding basically the same themes: people wanting fortune, recognition, sex, grandeur, etc. Such sad and empty things to be so deeply desired.    
  
With a sigh, he makes his way around the small room of the temple he resides in, making himself presentable to join the other gods, even though he knows what awaits him when he makes his appearance: ridicule, disdain, snide remarks, and lots of snobby looks down noses directed at him. 

 

He only bothers because it’s the only way his meager room won’t be raided to flush him out, and he would rather deal with demeaning words than the physical beatings he used to get more frequently before he learned to just appease everyone else and show up. 

 

Cold water dripping down his face from where he had splashed it, he peers into the mirror mounted above the wash basin. A young face framed by wild chestnut hair greets him, tan skin with a few freckles scattered over sharp cheeks and a blunt nose. Red and gold tattoos mark his face, a red streak running from the bottom of his wide, full lips down his chin, a gold one running alongside it. A painted visor of red stretches from his eyebrows to his cheekbones and runs all the way across the width of his face, with the bottom of it outlined in gold, complementing the luminescent golden brown of his eyes. 

 

His eyes go to the mark that draws his attention and he traces over it bitterly. The upturned red crescent moon on the middle of his forehead. The mark of his cowardice. Of his failure. Branding him with his new role.   
  
\- -

 

“I will never understand  _ why _ he comes here. It’s not like anyone wants a coward among us.”

 

“We need to make sure he isn’t slacking off on his duties.”

 

“He is unworthy of being in the main temple, he should be grateful that we allow him here”   
  
Jessiztecatl scoffs and rolls his eyes, making his way to the only two gods who don’t go out of their way to berate him. They aren’t  _ warm _ , exactly, but they  _ do _ speak to him politely.  [ Chalchiuhtlicue ](http://www.thaliatook.com/AMGG/chalchiuhtlicue.php) and  [ Mictlantecuhtli ](https://www.deliriumsrealm.com/mictlantecuhtli/) had been the closest friends of Jessiztecatl’s father, Tlaloc, and, as such, had been tasked with the job of raising him until he grew into his new powers, since his actual parents had been banished.  

 

“Hello, young one.”  [ Chalchiuhtlicue ](http://www.thaliatook.com/AMGG/chalchiuhtlicue.php) greets, a nod cast in his direction, “How did your duties go last night?”

 

Jessiztecatl nods in return, adopting the “proper”, respectful manner he had been instructed to use around the other gods, “Yes”, he replies blandly, “everything is much the same. Humans safe from other gods and dreaming about their desires”.  _ Shallow as they are _ , he thinks to himself.   
  


“Are you sure you are not just slacking off on your duties?”, comes a snide comment from behind Jessiztecatl. He sighs and turns to see  [ Tonatiuh ](https://www.thoughtco.com/tonatiuh-aztec-sun-god-172967) , as expected, and feels the familiar pang of shame and resentment. 

 

There was once a time where Jessiztecatl and  [ Tonatiuh ](https://www.thoughtco.com/tonatiuh-aztec-sun-god-172967) had been something like brothers. Jessiztecatl had been bold and daring in that time, cocksure and proud, and  [ Tonatiuh ](https://www.thoughtco.com/tonatiuh-aztec-sun-god-172967) \- called  Nanahuatzin back then - had been humble and shy. They had been through Mictlān and back together (quite literally on one occasion) and had been inseparable. 

 

But that was a lifetime ago.

 

Now, Tonatiuh is one of his worst tormentors, taking every opportunity to humiliate and degrade Jessiztecatl. 

 

“No, Tonatiuh”, he responds, fighting to keep his tone neutral, lest he betray the weariness he feels at the repetitive and unoriginal accusations, “I’m not slacking off. The human realm is at peace. At least, as peaceful as a race of self-destructive beings can be.”

 

Tonatiuh sneers down at him, “You’re just lazy,” he accuses as he spits at Jessistecatl’s feet, “unwilling to step forth and actually  _ do _ something. Same as always.”

 

Fury replaces the shame in Jessiztecatl’s gut, and it’s a close call to him tackling the other god to show him just how he would ‘step forth and  _ do _ something’, but a large hand falls on his shoulder and squeezes. Jessiztecatl flinches, fury extinguishing as he looks back and meets the stern frowning face of  [ Mictlantecuhtli ](https://www.deliriumsrealm.com/mictlantecuhtli/) . He casts his eyes downward, gritting his teeth at the submissive gesture and bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood when Tonatiuh begins jeering at him, much to the delight of some of the other nearby gods.

 

Calls of “worthless coward”, and “filthy outcast” follow him as  [ Mictlantecuhtli ](https://www.deliriumsrealm.com/mictlantecuhtli/) relinquishes his grasp on Jessiztecatl’s shoulder and he makes his way out of the main temple and begins the trip back to his own. 

 

\- -

 

The main temple of the gods is huge, gilded bricks stacked up to form tiered pyramids, surrounded on three sides by thick, lush forests, the fourth opening up to wide, rolling fields and a tall mountain bearing a thundering waterfall. The dilapidated temple Jessiztecatl calls home is at the far end of the mountain, just past the waterfall, and it’s a lengthy journey to and from every day to the main temple. The sky is clear and blue, sunlight glistening off the waterfall and the churning pool beneath and casting the world in an ethereal glow. But the beauty is lost on the young god, lost in his thoughts.    
  


Backing down from a challenge has always been something that turned Jessiztecatl’s stomach - something that had carried over from his past life - but he knows that trying to fight Tonatiuh would be a bad idea ; being the god of the night comes with the  _ lovely _ perk of only being able to use his powers at night, so during the day, he is essentially mortal. Yet another “gift” to shame him and remind him of his place. 

 

As if he needs reminding.

 

A large wet nose greets him by pressing against the bare skin of his chest and drags him out of his spiraling thoughts, pulling a startled yelp from Jessiztecatl. He laughs, recognizing the giant furry beast the nose is attached to and reaches up to scratch behind large pointed ears before hopping onto Ma’ii’s back. 

 

One of the very few pleasures in Jessiztecatl’s life is riding on top of his giant coyote. Feeling the warm, humid air whip through his hair and brush across his skin, smelling the damp earth and vegetation, seeing the world buzz with activity as the sun traverses across the sky.    
  
The only thing that gives him the sense of  _ freedom _ . Jessiztecatl feels the coyote’s muscles bunch just before he vaults them over a large crevice in the earth and he howls, riding the high of the thrill, feeling the negativity retreating to the back of his mind as he revels in the short amount of time he is allowed to feel happy and at peace. 

 

What he would give to have freedom like this, always. To be free of ridicule and shame and scorn. To be nothing more than just himself and be accepted. 

 

But it is not to be.

 

This is his punishment for his gutlessness.

 

So he takes what he can get when he can.

  
  


All too soon, Ma’ii stops at the entrance to the crumbling temple and lowers himself to the floor so Jessiztecatl can slide off. The young god thanks him with belly rubs and promises to go on a hunt with him the next morning.   
The sun has nearly finished its journey across the horizon, just enough time for Jessiztecatl to get settled in to begin his own duties.

 

He settles down in his bed, a pelt pulled high around his shoulders as he closes his eyes and breathes slowly.

 

Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out.

 

A small golden light flickers to life at the edge of Jessiztecatl’s consciousness, his powers coming out of their daytime dormancy to seep back into him, filling him with warmth. 

 

He is Jessiztecatl, god of the Moon and All Things Ruled by the Night. Gone is the sun, giving way to the pale, cool rays of moonlight as the world is shrouded in shadows. 

 

It sounds better than it is, really. 

 

His primary duty is to keep watch over the mortal realm and make sure balance is kept, monitor dreams to ensure that the humans are not under any threat from other immortal beings. 

  
  


He lets his consciousness flow out into the realm of dreams, an image of himself projecting into that space to navigate the millions and millions of dreamscapes, miniature worlds designed by the minds of the mortals, most of them blurry or painted in washed out tones. 

 

He sifts through them idly and finds much of the same things he always does.

 

There’s some teenager dreaming that he’s gone to school without pants, he hopes his crush isn’t there to see-

 

Jessiztecatl has never understood why that’s such a common fear. 

 

He pans over to the next dreamscape. This one shows a young girl standing triumphantly over some larger boy who has clearly been defeated in some sort of battle. Ah, revenge. Another typical theme. 

 

A flick of his head brings the next one to him: some crook, apparently, who has gotten off scotch-free after committing his heinous crimes. Planning the next one against the woman who had  _ dared _ try to go against him in court-

 

Another flick of his head. 

 

Another dream about something pointless.

 

Another flick, another bland dream.

 

Another flick, another… 

 

_ Huh _ ? 

 

Jessiztecatl cocks his head curiously.  _ This _ dream is different. 

 

A lone boy sits by a waterfall, the sun glinting off the mist and the ripples in the water, dappling the boy’s skin in kaleidoscopic patterns. The boy just breathes deeply, a small, serene smile on his face.

 

There are no chanting voices calling his name, no piles of money for him to dive into, no screaming crowds vying for his attention. 

 

No other people at all, as far as Jessiztecatl can tell.

 

Odd.

 

Before he’s aware he’s doing it, the young god is toppling forward into the dreamscape, wind whistling in his ears as he falls. 

 

He squeezes his eyes shut, expecting pain upon impact of him meeting the floor of the bamboo forest he had been falling into, but no pain came. He just lands with a bodily thud in a thick cluster of trees, disturbing a little rabbit that had previously occupied the space.

 

He’s just shifting around to make his seated position slightly less uncomfortable when he hears movement approaching him. Immediately, he goes on the defensive, crouching in preparation of flight.

 

A pair of hands reach out to part the bamboo and Jessiztecatl takes this chance to dart out from his hiding spot, seeking cover in a bush behind one of the large rocks by the pool. He can’t quite see from his spot in the bush, but he can hear the boy approaching him and he bunches his muscles like a cat ready to pounce, prepared to flee once again.

 

“I mean you no harm, I promise. I’ve never seen anyone else here before”. The boy speaks for the first time, and Jessiztecatl detects notes of curiosity and weariness in his voice. No fear, though, and no malice.

 

The boy calls out again, hands raised in a sign of non-aggression as he rounds the corner and comes within range of the bushes Jessiztecatl is using for cover. The boy parts a bush slightly to the side of the young god, his eyes seeking but not quite searching in the right spot,  “will you come out? I promise I will not hurt you.”

 

Jessiztecatl senses no danger from this boy. 

 

Who is he? Who is this boy who dreams of peaceful solitude when others his age dream of popularity and glory? Who dreams in such vibrant color and detail when others dream in murky colors and blurry lines?

 

He has to know.

 

He allows the branch to be pulled away from his face and locks eyes with the boy. He looks a bit taken aback, grey eyes widening as his mouth falls open a bit and snaps shut, apparently unable to figure out words for a bit until he finally whispers a tentative “hello?”

 

Jessiztecatl smiles, intrigued. 

 

“Hello”.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been 84 yeeeeears!!! Sorry, again, folks. Got a lot goin on in my personal life and I was honestly pretty nervous about all the mythology I am twisting and recording to fit my needs in this story.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, in case anyone is wondering, YES, Jessiztecatl’s name WILL be shortened to Jesse, because saying Jessiztecatl and typing it is a chore I regret assigning myself in the first place lol 
> 
> Feel free to yell at me on Twitter 😅@jazzi_hands_

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic EVER and OF COURSE I decide to do a multi chapter because, apparently, I'm a masochist.
> 
> Many thanks to the amazing Mercurytail for betaing for me and being patient and dealing with my incessant questions.
> 
> Feel free to yell at me on Twitter @Jazzi_Hands_


End file.
